Page 22 of Finding Emotion

Her tension didn’t return from his handling of her.

“That was… different,” she murmured into his neck.

“Good?” he asked. She’d definitely rocked his world.

A grunt was his answer. “Don’t let me sleep.”

Her request was impossible to meet. Her body slumped limply over his as her breathing evened out. Whatever had gripped her before seemed truly gone.

Damon rolled her to her side as he studied her slumbering face. Without those hard eyes, and the tension in her body that she normally carried, she appeared almost vulnerable. His chest tightened at the thought. He wondered what would make someone like Skylar afraid.

He discarded the condom in a nearby trash can and dressed them both, eyeing what appeared to be a camera in the corner. Fuck, he was an idiot. They’d been in the hotel gym, after all.

Skylar’s breathing was deep and steady. He propped open the exit before lifting her in his arms. Their picture was most likely going to spread everywhere again. When she pressed her face into his shirt with a little snuffle, he decided he didn’t care and strode for the elevator.

Chapter 12

Skylar woke up in her hotel bed. Her arms shook a little as she shoved herself up, trying to blow the hair out of her eyes. She felt rested, which was good. The nightmare hadn’t returned. Unless the whole thing from waking to the panic attack to having the most amazing sex of her life was all one big dream. The twinges down below and a vague soreness told her that wasn’t likely.

Who would have thought Mr. Sweetface could hold out for that long? She hadn’t orgasmed three times with straight sex before. Oh, she’d figured out the G-spot could work, after stimulus to her clit was no longer a go, but getting it just right was a tricky thing most of the time. She always kept at it anyway, chalking up the failures as learning experiences. The fucking gang rape wasn’t going to take away her climaxes. She refused to let that happen.

She hadn’t expected sex with Damon to set her off like that. After the panic attack, the idea of controlling his orgasm had settled her, like a ray of light in the darkness. That he’d let her reeked of pity. He’d figured her out somehow. Not the details, but he knew that something had set off a panic attack.

Still, he hadn’t faked his reaction to her. She’d wanted to eat him up. Instead, she’d blown her top off as well as his. Hell, she’d even kind of cuddled with him afterward, though the limp noodle state of her body had helped with that. She never cuddled anymore. Damon seemed safe, though. Harmless. Which was a weird thought since she’d climaxed hard enough to pass out.

She was pretty sure he had, too, but she hadn’t paid him much attention. Which was another oddity. She was often hyper-focused on her partner getting there.

“Good, you’re awake,” Mandy said, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Skylar grunted as she scooted to the edge of the bed. “Just… let me hit the bathroom.”

The quick splash of water became another shower and brushing of her teeth. Hotel robes were the pits, but Mandy had tossed her own silky one into the bathroom after her. When Skylar came out drying her hair on a towel, her manager was waiting for her in a chair she hadn’t noticed in the corner of the bedroom.

“You don’t have to worry about splooge on the sheets,” Skylar said, crawling on top of the bed again herself. “This room hasn’t seen any action.”

Mandy looked up from her phone. “I know. The hotel provided the security footage from their camera in the gym.”

Skylar shrugged. A camera hadn’t occurred to her. She probably should have been embarrassed, but that wasn’t her. Besides, for once her body felt fairly relaxed. At least, it had. The thought of her panic attack on tape slid into her stomach with a lurch.

“Of course, they could have made copies. We’ll have to see.” Mandy tapped her lip, studying Skylar. “You both were mostly off camera, since it was pointed at the door. All but Damon Lynch’s face.” Mandy’s cheeks pinked as her hand moved to her neck.

Skylar would have been interested in seeing his expression when he came, but her mind hadn’t let go of her concern over the panic attack yet. She licked her lips, which had suddenly become too dry. “So not much of my spastic treadmill use?”

“It’s obvious you fell, but that’s about it.” Mandy’s hand dropped as she studied Skylar over the top of her glasses. “You were down longer than I would have expected. Are you hurt?”

Skylar waved off the concern. “Just my pride. Damon wouldn’t let it go, so I made him think about something else.”

“Right.” Her manager’s sharp eyes remained focused on her. “I’m a little surprised he would do that. The picture of him carrying you to the elevator seems more his style. It and his earlier post on social media made his fans swoon.”

Skylar had kind of assumed he’d carried her up to bed. Mr. Sweetface was stronger than he looked—though his abs had been fine and his arms had appeared more than toned in the tank top.

“You’re not curious about his post?” Mandy asked.

Skylar shrugged. “What do I care what his handlers say? I’m sure mine have been busy.”

“Jimmy said Damon pushed for the post after he saw some of the hate messages you were getting.”

“I always have haters.” Skylar’s stomach twisted again as she remembered her own messages on her phone. She hated that it bothered her. Fucking Jack and his fucking mind games.

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